


Bitter

by happygolovely



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Descent into Madness, Emotional Manipulation, Episode: s02e09 A Bitter Pill to Swallow, Exhibitionism, Future Fic, Heartache, Kidnapping, M/M, Mental Anguish, Mental Instability, Power Dynamics, Prose Poem, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-01-11
Packaged: 2019-03-03 13:28:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13342212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happygolovely/pseuds/happygolovely
Summary: He tried long ago to sever this connection between them. It never breaks, merely bends. Twisted up in knots, tied around his throat choking him to death. Still it remains.





	Bitter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [coronergrey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/coronergrey/gifts).



 

Oswald looked out over his city, drinking deep from the wine of his heart. The city he molded with his bare hands, bled and killed for. He barely recognizes it these days. Very little of Gotham remains under the high rises and gleaming chrome.

Beautiful and pristine. 

Utterly devoid of home. 

Such was progress. Sacrifices had to be made for the common good. Still he longs for older skies. Jutting, asymmetrical and completly without rhythm or rhyme. Turn a corner in the diamond district and find yourself under a knife. 

He hasn't held a blade in so long. His hands cleaner these days though not by much. He has retaken the mayor's office with little difficulty and assumed control of the city in every conceivable way. 

Perhaps its his mayoral position that has him nostalgic for simpler times. Perhaps he never really stopped being the man who loved him. In any case, he makes the call. 

They find him wandering in the historic section, one of the few pockets he has been able to preserve. 

They take him up to the loft. A green suit waiting for him in a box on the bed. They throw him into the shower, fully clothed. 

He dresses slowly. Ties a mask around his eyes and fixes his hat. Show time. 

They blindfold him and toss him in the trunk of a car. No gag this time, talking then. He'll want a little melodrama. 

Happy to oblige.

They drag him up into the building and force him down into a chair, arms tied behind his back. The mask is removed. 

Oswald sits across from him, looking very pleased with himself. He has every reason to be. Age has done him well, hardly any lines on his face. Dignified, distinguished. Streaks of silver in his hair. He wants to reach out and snatch them out of his hair, twine them together. Form a chain, a link between them.

Without the silver he can almost pretend he's sitting with an old friend. This man is nothing of the sort. 

Oswald smiles at him. So happy to see him, even after everything. 

Ed screams. A ghastly, feral sound deep from the bones of him. Howls and howls like the lunatic he's supposed to be, the maniac they said he was. Cuts off with a sob that racks through his entire body, bent over in pain. 

Oswald looks through the menu, idly. “Stop screaming. We are in public.” 

As if such a thing matters - oh of course. He still retains some sense of decorum. Laughable really, the thin veneer of civility he clings to. In the end, he's the most savage of them all. 

Ed opens his mouth to scream once more but nothing comes out. He has stolen everything from him, even his voice. 

Oswald raises an eyebrow. “Are you quite finished? I'd like to get to the meal if you're done making a spectacle of yourself. “ 

He snaps his fingers and the waiter arrives promptly. He orders quietly and smiles sly and secretive. 

“It's a surprise for you.” 

“I've had enough surprises for one day.” 

Oswald chuckles. “This can hardly shock you, surely you know what day it is.” 

Ed shakes his head, feigning ignorance. 

“Today is the day I rescued you from Arkham. Today is the day I set you free.” 

Ed swallows down a hundred bitter words. He knows his lines.

Smiles through his teeth. 

“Happy Anniversary, darling.” 

“Happy Anniversary, my own.”  

Oswald’s smile bright as the morning and god why couldn't he see it all those years ago. Would it have made a difference if he had known the depth of his affections? He thinks back to the man he was, so desperate and eager for just a moment of his time, a glance in his direction. 

It would have changed everything. 

He reaches across the table for him and Ed flinches back. Bright smile flickers for an instant then comes back stronger than ever. 

He reaches for the silk napkin. “I know I’ll never be as good as you but I like to think I’ve picked up a few things over the years.” 

He folds the napkin haphazardly, his technique flawed. He resists the urge to correct him, it won't end well. 

He presents the most misshapen, deformed sculpture he has ever seen. Barely even a penguin any longer, just a monstrosity masquerading as one. 

He locks eyes with the man across the table. That makes two of them. 

“It's quite...something. “ 

Oswald preens, eyelashes fluttering. He waves away the compliment like a pesky insect. 

“Oh it was nothing really, I've been practicing a little.” He looks down at his silverware. “Wanted to impress you, I suppose.” 

Improv. Fantastic. 

Ed barely contains the urge to stab something with a butterknife. Himself, Oswald, it really doesn't make a difference. 

“Consider me dazzled.” He settles on, hoping that's appropriate.  

That seems to do the trick. He's back up again. Swinging wildly from high to low, impossible to follow his train of thought. 

The train has been wildly careening off the tracks for some time now,

Perhaps it's that mad look in his eyes, so very reminiscent of the man he sees in the mirror every morning. Perhaps he never really stopped needing this, craving every drop of his affection. To live without water, to find an oasis. 

In any case, he plays along. 

He asks all the right questions, at all the right times. Plucks at his heartstrings and follows the melody. The strings leading from Oswald's heart deep into his own. A puppet loosely strung. 

He tried long ago to sever this connection between them. It never breaks, merely bends. Twisted up in knots, tied around his throat choking him to death. Still it remains. 

Oswald loves loves loves him. Beyond sense, beyond reason. Beyond death itself. Oswald loves him and he will never belong fully to himself.  

Their dinner arrives or more precisely, Oswald’s dinner arrives. He seems determined to share this with him. His hands still tied behind his back. 

Oswald’s hand on his chin as he tips his mouth open. The fork slides between his lips and he tastes nothing, absolutely nothing but fire and ash and bile. 

He swallows it down. Pomegranate seeds. 

They cluster and grow inside of him, year after year. He returns every winter. Leaves in the spring. He is always leaving.

Oswald's hand on his skin, tracing the lines of his jaw reverently. 

Ed shivers. From the cold, from the heat, possibly both. 

“Untie me.” He whispers. 

Oswald looks at him sadly. “You know I can't do that, remember what happened last time.” 

Ed gutted him and left him for dead in a taxi. 

He pulled up next year in that very taxi. 

Ed shakes his head, desperate to reassure him. “It won’t be like that this time, I swear.” 

He looks unconvinced. 

“I want to touch you. I don't think I can bare another second without my hands on you.” 

“What would you..what would you do to me?” He hangs on the edge of his seat, balanced on the end of a knife. 

He smiles, sharp and sweet. “Let's find out together, shall we?” 

His bonds break in an instant as if they were never there at all. 

He soothes his wrists, the places were it cut into him. 

Oswald taps his fingers against the edge of the table.  

“Well get on with it then. Don't have all day.” 

He laughs, the loveliest and cruelest it has ever been. 

“Patience is a virtue, I'm told.” 

“I don't have any of those. Get over here.” 

He sighs and gets out of his seat reluctantly. No use prolonging the inevitable. 

He slides into his lap, arms draped carelessly around his shoulders. 

Oswald’s eyes widen. “What on earth - what on earth are you doing?” 

He presses them closer together. “This is what you wanted isn't it, what you've always wanted.” 

“In private yes, not here where anyone can see us.” 

Ed bites into his ear, he yelps. “Here. Now. One last chance.” 

Oswald rolls his eyes. “You're impossible. I can't take you anywhere.” 

“You wouldn't have me any other way.” 

Oswald caresses his cheek. “I’d have you. Any way that you let me. I'll have you with my last breath, if necessary.” 

“You don't have to wait that long.” Ed kisses him with the weight of all the years, all of the joy, the pain. A consecration. 

Oswald surges against him, a tempest. A monsoon. He is carried under by the tides and Ed finds himself lost at sea. 

He pulls back for shore and breathes fresh salt air. 

Oswald smiles up at him, bliss incarnate. The glow doesn't last long.  He starts to choke, face turning blue. He turns to him, eyes wider still.

“Poison. On your mouth?” 

“In the wine. You drink too much. It's going to kill you one of these days.“

He pulls on his jacket fearfully. 

“Ed you kissed me, we have to get you to the doc-” 

“I have the antidote, of course.”

A small white pill in the palm of his hand. A second concealed up his sleeve. 

He nods, seemingly satisfied. “Good, take it.” 

That doesn't make any sense. 

“Wouldn't you rather have it?” 

“No. You need that. Take it. If however, you could grant one last request -” 

“Anything for you.” 

“Kiss me. Well and truly. Let me think that's it real, just this once.” 

He kisses him at last, the very last. Pours himself over him, wrapped around and entangled. Impossible to say where one ends and the other begins. 

He pulls back, pressing a final frantic kiss to his lips. 

Oswald smiles. 

“There. Now I have everything I ever wanted. Thank you.” 

Ed presses the pill between his teeth. Bites down. It's bitter, difficult to swallow. 

He tastes ice. 

He reaches into his sleeve and pulls out the pillbox. Forces Oswald's mouth open and shoves the antidote down his throat. 

Oswald comes back to him in increments, in seconds. 

It feels like a lifetime. 

Ed hands him a glass of water and he drinks it, chasing the taste away.

“Why?” 

He doesn't want to examine his motivations too closely. 

He stands up quickly. 

“I'll kill you some other time. Not today. It's a special occasion after all.” 

He hovers, suspended in the moment. 

“Happy Anniversary, Oswald.” 

**Author's Note:**

> prompt: stop screaming. we are in public.  
> tumblr: happygolovely


End file.
